


Tojoshi Short Stories

by Iambic_Pentameter



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambic_Pentameter/pseuds/Iambic_Pentameter
Summary: Short fics about the esteemed maid and the bitter former tennis pro.





	1. Prisoner of Love

**Author's Note:**

> For best effect, listen:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbNPg_Rp0ws

She's flipping through the records on his shelf, one idle afternoon. It's mostly mellow, laid back music, fitting for someone of his nature. Ocasionally some rock in there, but she mostly findsjazz, lounge, and bossa nova.

  
"Want me to put a record on?" he chuckles, walking in with a fresh cup of coffee.

  
"I _am_ curious. What kind of music does someone like Ryoma Hoshi even listen to?"

  
"Y'know, I used to dance quite a bit."

  
"Really."

  
"Really. I kinda..." He struggles to find the words, visibly a bit uncomfortable. "Wanted to sweep Reiko off her feet. We had a dance coming up, so I took tango lessons."

  
Her heart grows heavy when he says her name. He can talk about his family just find, but bringing up his old girlfriend just reminds him of what he did to her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

  
"It's fine. Not your fault. I should try to grow up and move on."

  
Not only does it hurt to see him so downcast, it makes her feel inadequate. Like she's not good enough to blot out the pain in his heart. But this time, she's determined to see him smile again.

  
She holds a hand out to him.

  
"Would you care to show me?"

  
He looks up at her, first with surprise, then amusement.

  
"How am I supposed to lead when you're twice my height?" he laughs. He doesn't keep old photos of her, but she's heard that she was only slightly taller than him.

  
"Simple." She picks him up off his feet. He squirms in surprise, then relaxes as she lets him stand on the bed, with her standing on the floor. Now, they're face to face.

  
He laughs. "So that's your plan, huh?"

  
She smiles. "Any preference for a song?"

  
He thinks. "There's one labelled 'Perry Como,' throw that one on. Good slow dancing tune."

  
"Very well."

  
She pulls the desired record out and places it, dropping the needle. She quickly walks over to him, and stands eye to eye with him once more.

  
"Okay, so get close like this..."

  
He wraps an arm around her waist. He rests his head near the crook of her neck and takes her hand in his own, keeping his arm outstretched.

  
As the sultry voice rings across the room, he slowly walks, guiding her as he crosses one leg over another. She takes in the lyrics, finding it easy to understand why he relates to them so much.

  
_"Too weak to break the chains that bind me..._

  
_I need no shackles to remind me..._

  
_I'm just a prisoner of love..."_

  
"This is rather nice. And if I may add, you're quite a sweetheart for learning all of this."

  
"Guess it's good I learnt it. Still got someone to show it to. And hey, at least we can't step on each other's feet."

  
She chuckles as they look into each other's eyes, heat rushing to their faces.

  
"Still a shame I'm so short. If we were the same height, I'd really sweep you off your feet, believe me."

  
"Oh? Perhaps I can do it for you."

  
She wraps her arm around his back and holds his arm aloft as she dips him, his back nearly touching the mattress. Her face is right against his, their noses brushing against one another.

  
"You're a fast learner."

  
"I've got a good teacher."

  
No longer able to resist, she locks her lips against his. He gently caresses her shoulders as they sink into the bed, the vinyl behind them dying out and cutting to static.

  
_"My very life is in her keeping..._

  
_I'm just a prisoner of love..."_


	2. The Man Once Called Ryoma Hoshi

The sky was died a mellow orange. The sun was slipping past the horizon, sinking past the tall buildings and treelines of their quaint little town. They were both seated on their own personal meeting spot, a hill they'd called their own since they met in kindergarten.

  
"Can you believe summer's almost over already?"

  
The boy groaned in response.

  
"I don't really want to...I'd rather just pretend it's gonna go on forever."

  
"That's no good! You can't hide from your problems, you gotta take 'em head on."

  
He chuckles. He's never been as bold or outspoken as she is. She's a tomboy, through and through.

  
He looks over at her. Scrapes on her knees, mostly dark purple clothes. Just like him, she looks incredibly young, even for their age.

  
"I don't want middle school to be over..."

  
"You're the only kid I've ever met to say something like that."

  
"I just don't wanna grow up...I'm scared I'll work a boring job, or be a housewife or somethin' stupid..."

  
"Well, if you keep working at volleyball, you won't have to do either of those things. Just don't give up, right?"

  
She sighs.

  
"I'm worried about volleyball...I know we're only in middle school, but everyone else is getting their growth spurts already, and yet here I am..."

  
"You've still got me. We'll be the two dwarves. Like Snow White."

  
She laughs and takes his hand in her own.

  
"No way. I don't wanna be short forever."

  
"You never know. But don't let it something as stupid as height hold you back, you're still the best on the volleyball team."

  
"Yeah. Same with you and tennis."

  
He beams at her. Even though the sunset is gorgeous, he doesn't want to take her eyes off of her.

  
"If I'm the only one to get tall...then I'll be your big tough guy. You can ride my shoulders."

  
She tries to hide her smirk as he punches him in the arm, as he chuckles to himself.

  
"Fine. That goes for me. You better not back out on this one, Ryoma."

  
He leans closer to her, eyelids lowered.

 

"When have I ever let you down, Reiko?"

 

....  
.......  
...........  
.......  
....

Years go by. Neither of them grow.

  
One never gets the chance to grow. If anything, she becomes only smaller and smaller, wilting beneath the earth.

The other stays the same as he ever was. Physically anyway. He believes deep inside, the boy that was known as Ryoma Hoshi died the same day she did. 

He stares off the roof of the campus. Even if he's stuck in his appearance, he feels as though decades have passed, with how much he's had to endure.

  
"I was wondering where you were."

  
He wasn't expecting a voice to come from behind, but he's not startled. Her voice is so soothing, it's hard to be.

  
"Sorry. Did I have you worrying?"

  
"Perhaps a bit. Mostly because I wonder why you're standing on the roof of the school, staring off into space."

  
"I'm not jumping, don't worry. Just...just thinking."

 

"Mm."

  
She walks forward, standing next to him, as they stare past the chain link fence, over the buildings into the horizon."

  
"About your parents? Or perhaps... about her?"

  
He looks away, pursing his lips.

  
"No. Don't think like that."

  
"I'm not at all offended if it's the latter. I'm perhaps disappointed if you're disengenous, however."

  
He grits his teeth, looking disappointed in himself. He's a bad liar, and right now he's feeling like a bad boyfriend too.

  
"Yeah. I was."

  
"You have every right to be upset about it, and to let it occupy your mind. It's tragic, what happened."

  
He grips at the chain link.

 

"Yeah. Tragic for her."

  
"You...still feel a great sense of guilt, do you not?"

  
"Of course."

  
She sighs and sits on a block of concrete, watching as he stares off into the horizon, looking vacant as ever.

  
She really is torn up, seeing him like this. He hates talking about her in front of him as well, which she appreciates, but she can tell it only hurts him more.

  
She's not jealous in any way. The girl's gone. It just pains her to see how it still eats away at him.

  
She scoots forward, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head into his shoulder.

  
"Have you...visited her?"

  
"They...had a funeral, but I didn't go. Her parents were alright with me, god knows what they'd say now, if they saw the shitty boyfriend who got her killed."

  
"If I may, it might...ease your mind a bit to see her resting place and say a proper goodbye."

  
He was still. He was getting choked up, in his stoic Ryoma way.

 

"I might run into a relative, or a friend or something. That's the last thing I need."

  
"Perhaps I can come with you."

  
"...."

 

"I can...check the area and make sure it's clear. If you wish for it to be a private moment, I shall respect that, but I want to be there for you. It's certainly not easy, but it doesn't have to be so hard."

  
He's gone completely quiet. He's faced away from her.

"Is that really okay with you? Going to see her?"

  
"All I wish is to see you happy. And this will lift a great weight off your shoulders. I am willing to help with this endeavour in any way."

 

At last, he turns around. He's a bit misty eyed. He returns her embrace, whispering softly to her.

  
"I love you. So damn much. You know that, right?"

  
"Of course. You were with her for so long. I know a part of you will always love her, and I am fine with that."

  
He gives a soft, warm smile as he hugs her closer.

  
"I'm all yours now. No one else's. That's a promise."

  
They can feel each other's heartbeats thumping against one another.

  
"Heh...you might not believe me, but you two would have liked each other.

  
She smiles.

  
"I believe it."

 

_Whoever you are, or rather...whoever you were...I hope you now, you can rest comfortably, and in peace knowing I will be there for him always, and will keep him safe._

 

_I look forward to meeting you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise.
> 
> Life's been a hectic lately, hence me not writing or posting anything here. I'll try to edge in a bit more time for fics, mostly here since I still think there's a lot of potential for stories with these two.
> 
> Also I plan on writing some more despairing stuff than what I've done up to this point, which has mostly been fluff. Kinda fitting, since they're both kinda depressing characters. 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading


	3. Ænon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, this is a slightly more despairing one, compared to the unmitigated amount of fluff I've written thus far. Compared to most DR fics it's nothing, but I've gotten a few comments from people saying they read these for comfort, and I don't want to leave anyone feeling down.

It doesn't all come back to him right away.

It comes back to him piece by piece, first the Killing Game and his death, obviously, but then everything before that. His real name, his school, his family, his friends, signing up for that god damn game show, and so on.

  
He remembers doing all of that, but it wasn't him. It was the man who essentially gave up his life to become Hoshi Ryoma.

Then came the questions.

  
Namely the big one being, how the hell he was still having any sort of conscious thought, why he was lying in front of that  _god damn_ sink, and of course, where Kirumi had gone.

  
He shambles his way out the door. He doesn't want to look at that fucking sink any longer. If he could, he'd honestly prefer to sanction off that bathroom from his life, forever.

  
He sees his research lab. It's still there, but...

  
_what the hell... is this..._

  
The colour is off. The green of the court, the red of the net, and the yellowish colour of the balls are all slightly muted. It looks...dismal. Depressing. Like someone's taken a camera filter to all of it.  
He steps through the door into the hallway. Sure enough, the vegetation that had once coated the halls of the academy has turned to a miserable greyish-green. The tiles on the wall aren't any better for wear.

  
He walks through the halls for what felt like hours. There was nobody. No colour, no people. He'd give anything just to see another person's face again, it could be Kokichi for all he cared.

  
His shoulders slack. He slowly comes to a stop. Defeated, he accepts the truth. The game is over for him. It looks like the school, but he definitely isn't there anymore.

  
He's dead.

 

***

 

"Ryoma!"

  
He's gotten so used to the unsettling silence, he nearly jumps out of his seat, at the sound of another human voice.

  
He turns. There's Kaede, though she's now wearing some sort of cloth around her neck he'd never seen before. She looks rather happy, despite the miserable situation they're all currently in. And there's Rantaro, now wearing a baseball cap that looks a bit unsuited for a laid back, open guy like him.

  
"So you...died after me, huh?"

  
Ryoma nods.

  
"So that's what this is, after all, huh?"

  
Rantaro speaks up.

  
"There's no mistaking it. After all, why else would I have this?"

  
He takes the hat off and Kaede averts her gaze. Ryoma merely stares, numbed to the sight in front of him. His head's a bloody mess, still having that disgusting crack in his dome. He can see muscle and bits of skull.

  
Rantaro quickly slides the cap back on, not wanting to disturb him any longer.

  
"I'm sorry, Ryoma. I was hoping you'd make it out, find a new life for yourself. I didn't like hearing you talk like that."

  
Ryoma sighs.

  
"I deserve this. 'Cause I did it twice."

  
"Twice...?"

  
"Yeah. First I threw away my life to be part of a moronic killing game. Then I threw away my life for someone else."

  
"So you were an accomplice, huh?"

  
"Yeah."

  
Rantaro looks crestfallen.

  
"I guess, if there's any bright side to be found," Kaede interjects, "it's that we have each other."

  
She gives him a battered, exhausted smile. Ryoma tries his best to return it, though it mostly just comes off as awkward. He'd give anything to be as optimistic as her.

  
"So...does anyone of us know why we're here?"

  
Rantaro shrugs. "Still no way out, I'm afraid. Even after death, we can't get away from the academy."

  
"Why? And how?"

  
Rantaro shrugs.

  
"Who knows. I guess it's like a purgatory. It's a punishment for us, who threw our lives away to be here. We wanted this so bad, so it's what we get from here on out."

  
"I didn't want this."

  
They both look over at Kaede, who's expression has completely shifted. She looks perturbed.

  
"I didn't want to be part of this."

  
Rantaro scratches his the nape of his neck. "Well, no, but...at the same time--"

  
_"I DIDN'T WANT THIS!"_

  
She screams back at them, their eyes and mouths going wide in shock.

  
_" **SHE** WANTED THIS! **SHE** WANTED TO BE IN THIS DAMN GAME! **SHE'S** THE ONE WHO WANTED TO THROW HER LIFE AWAY TO BE HERE! SO WHY DO I..._ why do I..."

  
Her legs give out and she collapses to her knees. She's sobbing hysterically, clutching her makeshift scarf with one hand, clasping her face with the other.

  
Rantaro quickly falls on one knee and wraps his arms around her, cradling her head close to his chest like a child. Ryoma can infer they've been here for a while, and that this isn't an uncommon occurrence.

  
Feeling rather awkward, and not wanting to leave Kaede in a sobbing mess, he steps forward and wraps his arms around the two of them, pulling them in close.

  
They might be in purgatory, they might even be in hell. But he's not going to let them be alone.

 

***

 

Ryoma quickly learns the rules.

The first, obviously, is no colour. Well, there is, but there might as well not be for how drab and unpleasant it is to look at. 

The second, all his senses feel muted. He can't feel things as well, and he can't taste things as well, which he's actually grateful for when it comes to the third rule;

Everyone suffers. In their own special way.

For Rantaro, it's that bash on his head. Occasionally, he finds himself getting migraines so bad he needs to sit down for a few minutes, while Kaede comforts and tearfully apologizes to him again.

For Kaede, it's the wound on her neck. Ryoma hasn't seen it, but he knows it's there. She gets harsh pains in throat area, usually accompanied by choking screams, while Rantaro tries his best to keep her mind at ease. In a sick way, he's glad she stopped breathing before the spikes snapped down on her, one shudders to imagine what pain she'd have to endure then.

And then, for Ryoma, he gets perhaps not the most painful, but the most humiliating reminder of what he's done. He finds himself sporadically overcome by a gagging sensation, only to keel over on his hands and knees. 

And then, at least a few litres of dirty sink water comes cascading out of his mouth. It's like vomiting, but more uncomfortable and watery. And it lasts longer.

He hates it. Not because of the discomfort or the taste, he can live with both those things. The real pain comes from the constant reminder, pouring out of his throat, that he willingly did this to himself. He allowed another human being to rob him of the one and only life he had.  
And now, he's left to suffer and contemplate. He really didn't know what he had. This isn't painful, this isn't torture, so it's probably not hell. 

But it's a cruel reminder of what he once had. And he thinks, perhaps, he'd have been better off burning for all eternity. It'd take his mind off of it.

 

***

 

He had been wondering what had happened to her for a while.

  
If she won the trial, everyone else would have died and this...place would have been a lot more crowded, so he's figured for a while now that she lost.   
And then, sure enough, right in front of his lab, there she is.

  
She hasn't noticed him yet. She's staring at the door, thinking to herself. She's a mess. Cuts and slashes all over her body, along with a few bruises for good measure. Her clothes are tattered almost to shreds, leaving rather immodest scraps of fabric covering her. Whatever punishment she got, he's glad he didn't have to see it.

  
She must realize someone's watching her, because she turns around to face him. Her expression is caught somewhere between shock, sadness and pure agony. She looks mortified.

  
She bolts off, and before he realizes what's happening, he's after her. He hasn't found any use to run since he died, but he can still keep up a surprisingly decent pace. It doesn't take him long to catch up to her and grab her by the shoulder. She cries in pain, no doubt from her open cuts, and both of them fall to the floor.

  
He grabs hold of her by the arms. She thrashes about, screaming, yelling to be let go.

  
"Why are you running?!"

  
_"LET ME GO!"_

  
"What the hell are you running from?! Where the hell are you gonna run, huh? There's nowhere to run!"

  
_**"JUST GET OFF OF ME, DON'T LOOK AT ME--"** _

  
He gives up trying to pacify her with words, and simply holds her in place, allowing it to pass. Her violent screams of anger and pain slowly die down to pathetic sobs which he pities greatly. He can't blame her for being like this. He had nothing to lose. She lost everything.

  
Or so she thought, anyway.

  
She covers her face, still sobbing.

  
"Don't look at me..."

  
He settles her upright, holding her close and giving her a shoulder to cry into. She could run away at any moment, but she seems to have figured it out by now.

  
"I killed you...I killed another human being...and none of it mattered..."

  
"You didn't know. None of us did. I'm not proud, either."

  
"I signed up for the game..."

  
"That wasn't you. That was her."

  
He can tell she wants to argue back, but she's defeated in every sense of the word. He just allows her to continue crying.

  
"I'm not mad. I...I'm not mad."

  
"Don't give me empty platitudes....I took your life..."

  
"I threw it away. I'm mad at myself, more than anything."

  
She trembles, still quietly weeping into his shoulder.

  
She whispers apology after apology, as he tries his best to soothe her. He's never been good with this sort of thing, but right now, each other's all they got.

 

***

 

"C'mon. Let's get you changed. You're not decent."

  
She nods weakly, as he helps her struggle to her feet. They'd been silently sitting there for a while. He's glad Kaede and Rantaro never came around, surprising as well given the racket she'd been making. Maybe they figured to leave her be, they were pretty sympathetic.

  
She leans on him and clenches her teeth, bearing the pain as much as she can. He leads her down the stairs, out into the courtyard to the dorms, as she hobbles slowly along. It's slow and arduous, but he's got all the time in the world now. He's not bothered.

  
She's rather grateful her clothes are still in her closet. She pulls out a spare maid uniform and removes the hanger.

  
"Uh. Will you be alright...?"

  
"Yes. It's better for me to do this on my own, and grow accustomed to my...pain."

  
"Right. Sorry."

  
"No need to apologize. I know you're well-intentioned."

  
He steps out to give her a minute. He clutches his hand, and spews more sink water, over the railing. For once, it doesn't occupy his mind too much or remind him of anything he'd rather forget. He walks back in at her call, to see her lying back down on the bed, wincing. Her wounds are all covered up, thanks to her change in clothes.

  
"I could've helped you lie down," he adds, slightly annoyed.

  
"My apologies. It's not in my nature to accept help from someone else."

  
She lays flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She looks over at him, a wordless invitation beckoning him. He flops back next to her, staring up at the ceiling right alongside her.

  
"I'm sorry I made you go through all that."

  
She gives a deep breath.

  
"I deserve it. I should be sorry."

  
"It's fine, let's...just drop it."

  
A pregnant pause passes.

  
"Will we...ever leave?"

  
Ryoma considers.

  
"Kaede thinks when the game's over, we leave. But that's just her."

  
She scoffs in amusement.

  
"Quintessential Kaede optimism."

  
He scoffs in return.

  
"Yeah."

  
Even though there's a boy, her age lying right next to her in her bed, she still feels miles apart from any other life, any other contact. She slowly reaches her hand across the comforter and grips his hand.

  
Even with his muted sense of touch, he can feel her clearer than ever.

  
"I'm...afraid of what awaits us next. If there is indeed a next."

  
He sighs.

  
"Can't be much worse than this. But then again, it's a bit more bearable with you. So as long as I got all of you, I guess I'm ready."

  
She looks over at him. She gives a weak, battered smile, through her scars.

  
He gives a worn smile in return, sink water residue visible around his mouth.

  
"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might touch this one up later, still no 100% about it. Next one will be back to the fluff, don't worry.


	4. No Shortage / A Tall Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Ryoma was the tall one and Kirumi was the small one?

He stands at about six feet, cold dead eyes and an intimidating, fit figure, though he's admittedly let himself go a bit since he stopped caring. He stopped wearing his goofy looking horned hat a long time ago, leaving his cropped hair exposed. He also switched out his candy cigarettes for pure, unfiltered nicotine. Not one of his best moves, in hindsight. Like it mattered, anyway.

  
She stands at about three foot five, dwarfed in size by just about everyone, even Himiko. Himiko's also her only competition for youngest looking in the whole class, as she could easily pass for an elementary schooler. Despite this, she has a surprisingly smooth, deep voice for her age, sounding like a grown, elegant woman.

  
She can't stand how young she looks. No one takes her seriously as a maid, a woman of high standards and devotion, someone sophisticated. They just see a little girl playing pretend, carrying a cute little feather duster everywhere.

  
He used to dislike his appearance. His growth spurt hit him like a truck, and suddenly even teachers were looking up at him. People would stay out of his way, seeing his cold, dead eyes and athletic physique as intimidating. Now, he's thankful for it. No one should get close to him.

At first, they're not sure what to think of one another.

  
He doesn't like how she offers to help him with everything, tidy his room, organize his lab. He wishes she'd take the hint and steer clear of him, even if she has good intentions.

  
She is a bit wary of him initially, lord knows he's gruff and and scary-looking, but his facade only gets him so far. She's too keen. She can see he's a goodhearted person underneath it all, crying for someone to care for him again. Even he probably doesn't realize it. She finds, in a way, they're kindred spirits.

  
He takes no notice.

 

***

 

"There you go," he grunts, handing the book to her. Miu asked her to grab it from the academy library, seems to be an engineering related work of some sort. Naturally, Kirumi was too short to reach the top shelf, and using a ladder on her own would have been too dangerous.

  
"You have my gratitude," she says, elegantly as ever. "I apologize for troubling you."

  
He simply scoffs.

  
"There's nothing wrong with asking for a bit of help. I know you gotta keep up appearances, but they're ain't a thing wrong with it." He gives a semblance of a smile down at her. "Don't worry though, I won't tell anyone."

  
She realizes, in that moment, he understands her better than anyone. How it feels to be judged off her appearance, not treating her in a patronizing manner, but as a capable person. Even the way he's talking to her right now, not squatting or kneeling down to accommodate her, simply looking down at her as he stands up straight.

  
What's more, he doesn't even seem to be aware of it.

  
"Thank you. I'm grateful." She has a slight rosy color rush to her cheeks, which he finds cute, though he'll never admit it. "I suppose you understand what it means, to keep up a facade?"

  
"...Huh?"

  
"I can see you're more kindhearted than you let on. I'm not sure what occurred to you, but if you feel as though you need someone--"

  
" _Oi_. Don't start playing psychiatrist with me, kid."

  
His harsh tone and words send an icy jolt through her body.

  
"Whatever notions you got of me, forget them. I'm a killer, alright? I'm just as much a criminal inside as how I look. And don't forget that."

  
He stomps off.

  
She immediately feels a pang of regret. She moved too quickly. She overstepped a boundary without easing into it.

  
But she's not giving up. She'll see this through. He needs to see what he's capable of, once more.

 

***

  
  
She walks in on him lighting up, one afternoon.

  
He gives her an unamused look. She responds with a look of disapproval, as she steps forward.

  
"Don't walk any closer," he sneers. "Dunno why the tiniest one's coming up to me all friendly, but quit it, **now**."

  
Her expression is unamused, yet unflinching all the same.

"Are you threatening me?"

  
"Let's get something straight here, okay? I'm a bad person. I've killed people. And people like that don't have friends, understand? If you get it, then leave me alone already."

  
He punctuates his point by extinguishing his cigarette in the palm of his hand, giving her a dark, wide eyed expression.

  
She still stands, unfazed.

  
"True as that may be, I seriously doubt you have any intentions of killing again."

  
"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

  
"If you insist on my honesty...When I look at you, I see a broken husk of a man. A crime as low as murder can only be used to gain, but I see you've nothing to gain anymore. You are empty. Your eyes are void of any life."

  
He stares at her in disbelief. He wants to argue back, but it's hard to when she's right. Her words sting.

  
His shoulders subtly slack. She steps forward, and plucks the cigarette from his hands.

  
"When did you start using these?"

  
".....When I started killing people."

  
"You're indifferent to life, are you not? You're not bothered if you get a disease."

  
"...Yeah."

  
She drops it to the ground and gently crushes it with one foot.

  
"Not if I can help it."

  
She moves closer to him, sliding a glove off her hand as she does so.

  
She takes his hand in hers, and examines it, gently carressing it. It's lined with scars, cuts and burn marks.

  
There's ash where he stuck the cigarette earlier. He clearly wasn't pained by it. He's numb.

  
She wipes the ashes away and holds his battered palm in her smooth, small, delicate hands. She lifts it up, and his fingers brush against her cheek.

  
His face softens. His cheeks go slightly red. He feels oddly relaxed. He doesn't look quite as dead inside.

  
"You...know I can't feel that, right?"

  
"I know."

  
She looks right into his eyes. For the first time in this conversation, they have the tiniest spark of life in them.

  
"But I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by these fanarts: 
> 
> https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=65405558
> 
> https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=62475274 
> 
> And yes, both of them still have their canon voices.
> 
> I like the canon height difference more, but I still found the idea of a heightswap too cute to resist. Might do some more, not sure yet

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I said I wanted to do some drabbles with these two, and here it is. What can I say, I got really attached to this ship while writing Principles.
> 
> On that note, some of these do take place in the same continuity as my previous fic (http://archiveofourown.org/works/12544512/chapters/28567220) but it's by no means required reading.
> 
> Also, not all of these will take place in the same continuity.


End file.
